I cannot bend over his grave,

He sleeps in the secret sea;
And not one gentle whisp'red wave

Can tell that place to me.

Although unseen by human eyes,

And mortal know'd it not;

Yet Christ knows where his body lies,
And angels guard the spot.

ROBERT PICKERING, who was

Drowned from the smack "Satisfaction,"
On the Dutch coast, May 7, 1869.
Aged 18 years.

The waters flowed on every side,

No chance was there to save;
At last compelled, he bowed and died,
And found a watery grave.

In affectionate remembrance of
WILLIAM HARRISON,

53 years Mariner of Hull,
Who died October 5th, 1864.
Aged 70 years.

Long time I ploughed the ocean wide,
A life of toil I spent ;

But now in harbour safe arrived

From care and discontent.

My anchor's cast, my sails are furled,

And now I am at rest.

Of all the parts throughout the world,

Sailors, this is the best.

Our next example is from a stone in Castle

Street burial-ground, Hull, which is so is so fast

decaying that already some parts of the inscription

are obliterated :—

Sacred

to the memory

of

WILLIAM WALKER,

r of the Sloop Janatt,

. who was unfortunately

drowned off Flamborough Head,

17th April, 1823.

Aged 41 years.

This stone was Erected by
his Countrymen in

remembrance of his Death.

I have left the troubled ocean,
And now laid down to sleep,
In hopes I shall set sail

Our Saviour Christ to meet.

A gravestone in Horncastle churchyard, Lincolnshire, has this epitaph :

My helm was gone,

My sails were rent,

My mast went by the board,

My hull it struck upon a rock,

Receive my soul, O Lord!

On a sailor's gravestone in the burial-ground at

Hamilton, we are told :

The seas he ploughed for twenty years,
Without the smallest dread or fears :

And all that time was never known

To strike upon a bank or stone.

Epitaphs on Musicians and Actors.

A

FEW epitaphs relating to music and the drama now claim our attention. Our first example is to be found in the cathedral at Norwich :

Here WILLIAM INGLOTT, organist, doth rest,
Whose art in musick this Cathedral blest;
For descant most, for voluntary all,

He past on organ, song, and virginall.

He left this life at age of sixty-seven,

And now 'mongst angels all sings St. in Heaven;
His fame flies far, his name shall never die,
See, art and age here crown his memorie.
Non digitis, Inglotte, tuis terrestria tangis,
Tangis nunc digitis organa celsa poli.
Anno Dom. 1621.

Buried the last day

of December, 1621.

This erected the 15th day of June, 1622.

In Wakefield Parish Church a tablet bears an

inscription as follows:

In memory of

HENRY CLEMETSHAW,

upwards of fifty years organist

of this church, who died

May 7, 1821, aged 68 years.

Now, like an organ, robb'd of pipes and breath,

Its keys and stops are useless made by death,

Tho' mute and motionless in ruins laid;

Yet when re-built, by more than mortal aid,

This instrument, new voiced, and tuned, shall raise,
To God, its builder, hymns of endless praise.

We copy the following from a monument in Holy Trinity Church, Hull :

In memory of

GEORGE LAMBERT,

late Organist of this Church,
which office he held upwards of 40 years,

performing its duties with ability
and assiduity rarely exceeded,
affording delight to the lovers.
of Sacred Harmony,

This Tablet is erected

by his Musical and private Friends,
aided by the brothers of the Humber

and Minerva Lodges of Free Masons of this Town
(being a member of the latter Lodge),

That they might place on record
the high sense they entertained

of his personal and professional merit.
He died Feb. 19th, 1838, aged 70 years,
And his Remains were interred at the
Parish Church of St. John in Beverley.

Tho' like an Organ now in ruins laid,
Its stops disorder'd, and its frame decay'd,
This instrument ere long new tun'd shall raise
To God, its Builder, notes of endless praise.

From a churchyard in Wales we obtain the following curious epitaph on an organ blower :—

Under this stone lies MEREdith Morgan,
Who blew the bellows of our church organ.
Tobacco he hated, to smoke most unwilling,
Yet never so pleased as when pipes he was filling.
No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast,
Though he gave our old organ many a blast!

No puffer was he, though a capital blower;

He could blow double G., and now lies a note lower.

Our next epitaph records the death of a fiddler, who appears to have been so much attached to his wife that upon the day of her death he, too, yielded to the grim tyrant. Of this pair, buried in Flixton churchyard, it may be truly said: "In life united, and in death not parted." The inscription is as follows:

To the Memory of JOHN BOOTH, of Flixton, who died 16th March, 1778, aged 43 years; on the same day and within a few hours of the death of his wife HANNAH, who was buried with him in the same grave, leaving seven children behind them.

Reader, have patience, for a Moment Stay,

Nor grudge the Tribute of a friendly tear,
For John, who once made all our Village gay,
Has taken up his Clay-cold Lodging here.

Suspended now his fiddle lies asleep,

That once with Musick us'd to charm the Ear.

Not for his Hannah long reserv'd to weep,

John yields to Fate with his companion dear.

So tenderly he loved his dearer part,

His Fondness could not bear a stay behind;